Robots and Starfish
by spexile
Summary: It's a weird romance when a guy who talks to machines falls in love with a girl who can't die. It gets weirder when the guy works for a company and has to try to kill the girl. Love hurts.
1. Jonathan

***Author's Note***

**This story is written in 1****st**** person point of view. At the start of each chapter, the person who is narrating will be named.**

Jonathan Freeman

I looked down at my lunch and slowly pulled out the sandwich. I was crossing my fingers, toes, legs, eyes… Basically, everything that could be crossed was. I looked at it for a second then groaned. I dropped it back in the bag.

"I'm a junior in college. When is my mom going to stop cutting my sandwiches into little hearts?" I moaned. I looked around me for a trash can, but I couldn't find any. They were probably in the indoor cafeteria, since almost nobody ate lunch outside when it was 65°. How pathetic.

"Hey, relax. Food's food," assured my room mate, Mac, who sat across the round table. He was slurping up a soup he had gotten from the booth on our way to the tables. He had been piling up the bits of chicken he had sifted from his soup on an abandoned napkin he had found on the floor. He was sticking to his newly acquired vegetarian diet. Ever since he found out what was _really_ in hot dogs, he had sworn never to eat meat again, which didn't make sense, considering he's Nicole Richie-skinny.

"You know, just because you pick out the meat, it doesn't mean it's all gone. I'm sure that soup's got chicken juice in there too," I pointed out.

He scowled at me and ignored what I said. He brushed his brown bangs from out of his eyes and changed the subject. "Are you still going to join the football team?"

"Oh yeah, that," I mumbled, remembering my promise. At the start of the year, I promised Mac I'd join a sport and stop being so obsessed with computers. I decided that I was pretty fit, so I picked football. Plus, I didn't actually think I'd get in. So I was pretty surprised when I got in the team as the 3rd strongest player. Don't get me wrong, I'm not super weak, but I'm not a huge bulky monster. "I don't know. I don't want to be known as the jock. I like it down here with the tech geeks. I _can _talk to machines, you know."

"Oh yeah…" remembered Mac. I had told him my secret when we were freshman in high school. I decided I waited long enough to tell him. "You know, if you join the team, the cheerleaders will go out with you, and maybe even give you something extra, if you get what I'm saying."

I rolled my eyes at Mac, who was using his drumsticks on the table. "That won't happen. I'm sure of it."

"Oh yeah? Then why are they staring at you?" he pointed out. I turned, and sure enough, they were all staring. Well, almost all of them. One was turned away. All I saw was her wavy chocolate hair. Then she turned around.

I didn't even care about the three bottle blondes next to her waving at me and licking their lips seductively. I didn't care about the fact that their skirts were short enough to see where they bought their underwear. I didn't care that one of the girls "forgot" to wear a bra. I didn't care. I was too busy falling in love with the girl with chocolate hair.

Why does love have to be so corny?

***Author's Note***

**Please, please, PLEASE REVIEW! I want to know your opinions on the story and what I can do to make it better!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**


	2. Amy

Amy Nelson

"No!" I yelled once more. "I am not going to wear that!" I made a disgusted face at the lacy almost not-there bra that my friend, Lisa, was holding up in front of me as we walked.

"But it's your birthday present. You have to wear it," she said, putting on a puppy face smile. "Please?"

I shook my head determinedly.

"Okay. Fine," she surrendered. She stuffed it back into the Victoria's Secret bag and handed it to me. At the same time, she pulled out a compact mirror and started applying lipstick.

"I don't know how you multitask like that. I can barely even eat and read a book at the same time, let alone package skimpy lingerie, press red ink on my face, and flirt with a guy at the same time." I stared at her as she smiled and waved at a young teacher, also gesturing things that shouldn't be legal to people under 21.

"What? He's hot and single. I looked him up online. Don't ask," she explained.

"Sometimes I wonder why I still hang out with you. Maybe I should ignore you," I threatened playfully.

"You know that you couldn't. You'd never leave somebody who needed you. You should work at a hospital or pound or something. You're too nice to be a cheerleader, little Miss I'm A Virgin And Don't Believe in Deflowering Myself Until Marriage.

"Oh god." I rolled my eyes at her. We found our lunch table and sat down, empty of any signs of food. That's one thing that Lisa believes is part of the cheerleader image. Apparently, being Nicole Richie-skinny was popular among cheerleaders. The only foods they ever ate were salad and meatless soup. According to Lisa, if you eat fat, you get fat.

"Ooh, look over there. It's that new guy on the football team. I hear he's good with computers too."

I turned and saw him. He was facing away, so all I could see was the blonde hair on the back of his head. Across him was Mac. Mac and I were friends in high school, but we kind of drifted apart. We still talk and hang out every now and then, but not much else. He was wearing a zebra striped hoodie over a black shirt with purple and green stripes. He was drumming the table with old beat up drumsticks. How skater could you get?

I turned away and looked around the campus. It was a cool day, so not a lot of people were eating outside. In fact, I think the computer football dude, Mac, the cheerleaders, and I, along with about 8 or 9 other kids, were the only ones eating outside. I guess Californians can't stand the cold. Even if it's only 65°. How pathetic.

"Hey," whispered Lisa, interrupting my train of thought. "Football guy is staring at you."

I turned around and saw his face. As soon as my eyes locked on his icy blue eyes, I got dizzy. Everything meant nothing. Cheerleading, school, Californians, meatless soup- it all meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was him. I could live my whole life staring at him.

And I didn't even know his name.


End file.
